


The Goblin Market

by orphan_account



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: F/F, Fruit, Porn With Plot, Shameless Smut, Sibling Incest, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 01:44:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1762135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on erotic Victorian-era poetry. Elsa tastes forbidden fruit and falls under a curse. Anna must find a way to save her. Also: Total, shameless, Princess incest smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Goblin Market

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Goblin Market](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/54407) by Christina Rossetti. 



**The Goblin Market**

* * *

** Poem by Christina Rossetti **

** Adapted by Me **

* * *

 

"Can you hear that?" Anna asked.

They sat together on a hill, Elsa holding Anna, keeping her cool in the warm summer evening. Their arms were clasped; their tingling fingertips touched. Fireflies danced. The night air smelled like fresh grass. Elsa gave Anna frozen kisses on her neck. Each time her lips touched her sister's flesh, a little bit of winter escaped. Fractal ice patterns bloomed beneath her touch, and melted in the warm night air just as quickly.

"No, seriously," she insisted, "Can you hear that?"

Elsa sighed, and for a moment, turned her head away from her sister-bride. There was something there, far away and beyond the croak of frogs and the hum of fireflies. A jingling bell. A tapping drum. A singing violin. And voices, calling for everyone far and wide to come and party and buy.

"I do," she said. "It sounds like a party. Do you want to go?"

"It would fun," Anna whispered, touching her palm to Elsa's. She slowly licked her sister's fingertips. "Can you wait?"

"I hope so," Elsa said.

"Come on then!" Anna leapt up and skipped in the grass. "I can hear people laughing. People, Elsa!" She took her sister's hands and pulled her along.

Elsa ran with her, making up for her entire lost childhood. For the first time in forever, she was free, allowed to run unashamed through the grass with her sister-love. They ran through trees and past bushes, leaping over a stream, and together they fell upon the traveller's camp. Gypsies played and danced and sang. There were floating lanterns. A little dog. A beautiful woman played a violin. Elsa did love women, but she only had eyes for Anna.

And the fruit! Ripe, glorious fruit practically oozing sweet juice. Every kind of fruit the girls had ever heard of was there. Apples and quinces, lemons and oranges, plump cherries, melons and raspberries. Each one gleaming and wet. They had no such things in the northern mountains of Scandinavia. Some of these things she had only ever seen in books.

After a lifetime of isolation, Elsa was overwhelmed with sound, and light, and sensation. It was intoxicating.

"Elsa?" Anna asked. "Are you okay?"

"This is great!" Elsa said. "I've never been so happy. We're free. We're together. We're in love."

She kissed Anna then, right in front of God and the Gypsies and every living thing that crawled the earth. Their lips pressed together, their tongues touched. People cheered. They both blushed. Nobody knew they were sisters, and more importantly, nobody cared.

"We don't have to be afraid any more," Elsa whispered in Anna's ear. And kissed her again.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Anna. Come try some of this fruit with me!"

"Ooh, look at these grapes!" Anna said. There were vines strung all over the Gypsy's cart. Each grape was so fat it looked like it was about to explode. "Look, he keeps the soil in the cart. And look at this..." She held up a melon with the color and jiggly-ness of a water balloon. "I... have no idea what this is."

"I call it my bee's-fruit," the Gypsy woman said. "Its juice tastes like honey." She was tall, and dark, and fiendishly beautiful. Seduction wrapped up in silk... as hot as Elsa was cold.

"I'd love to try some," Elsa said, holding an apple. It positively gleamed in the candlelight. "Oh, dang it... We forgot our money."

"Don't worry, love," the Gypsy said, placing her hands on Elsa's shoulders. "You have plenty of gold, right here."

A single finger stroked Elsa's braid.

Elsa loved Anna... but by the Gods, this woman made her wet.

"Elsa..." her sister said. "I know you're kinda in the Happy Place right now, but this is getting creepy."

"You're not having fun?" Elsa asked. "This is the best night of my life."

Then she pulled a single shining hair from her head.

And that was it. Apples. Oranges. Berries and pears... and a jiggling melon that tasted like honey. All hers. For the first time in forever... She picked a single purple grape.

"Elsa, please don't!"

It tasted like Cabernet.

 

* * *

 

"That was glorious." Elsa said, closing the bedroom door.

"Better than chocolate?" Anna asked, incredulous.

"Better than sex," she replied, kissing her sister. "Almost."

Anna bit Elsa's lower lip and sucked it in her mouth. She tasted like wintergreen. Her tongue was peppermint. Anna stopped just long enough to watch a whisper of icy breath escape her lips. Then she attacked her sister again, exploring her mouth with her tongue. Elsa gasped and clutched her head. Next came her neck. Cold and smooth and graceful as a swan's.

"Anna..." Elsa whispered.

Now she was touching Elsa's breasts. Then groping her legs. Elsa fell back onto the bed and Anna followed her, licking the inside of her thigh. Elsa was cool... cold, even... but there was always one spot that nice and warm and wet-

"Anna," Elsa said, "Stop... stop... I don't feel good."

"What?"

"No more. Please. I don't feel good."

Elsa rolled over and curled up in a ball. She pulled her blanket over her.

"Elsa?"

"I'm okay," she lied. "I... just need to be alone for a bit."

She shivered.

Anna's eyes grew wide. Since when did _Elsa_ shiver?

"Umm... okay... I'll, uh, go make you some tea."

 

* * *

 

The day passed slowly.

Elsa stayed in bed. Anna gave her soup, and bread, and chicken. She ate little.

"It's not as good," Elsa mumbled. "I'd love some fruit, though."

Anna brought her apples.

"Bitter," she said. "Not as good."

She slept. Poorly.

Night fell.

Wrapped in her blankets, Elsa stood at the window. There were no fireflies that night.

"Elsa!" Anna protested. "You're sweating..."

"I'm nauseous," she said with a yawn.

"Come back to bed. I'll keep you warm."

Elsa obeyed. Anna held her tight. She was shivering. Beyond shivering... she was trembling. She gripped Anna's arm. Her nails dug into her sister's skin. Anna kissed her forehead. Her sweat tasted like absinthe.

"Anna..." Elsa said. "I'm cold. I've never..." Her jaw started to chatter. "I've never been cold before."

"It's okay," Anna whispered.

"I was tired... of being afraid... I'm the Snow Queen... I'm one with the wind and sky... I didn't think they could hurt me..."

She lay in Anna's arms, shivering.

"Can you hear it?"

"Can I hear what?"

"The music? I can't hear it tonight."

Anna listened. It was there. The tapping drum. The violin. A jingling bell.

"Yes," she said. "Of course I hear it."

"Oh..." Elsa whispered, "I don't hear anything. And I need it so bad."

 

* * *

 

Anna marched into the Gypsy camp, toting a wooden bucket. Gypsies played and danced and sang. There were floating lanterns. A little dog. A beautiful woman played a violin. Apples and quinces, lemons and oranges, plump cherries, melons and raspberries. People clapped and danced and sang.

But she did not. Anna headed straight for the fruit.

"Fill it up," she said, dropping the bucket in front of the Gypsy woman.

"Oh, child," the woman said, batting her eyes. "Sit down with me. We'll try some together."

"Nope. Fill it."

"You can't take these fruit home. The dew would dry. Half the flavor would be gone."

"What is wrong with my sister?" Anna shouted.

"What's wrong? Nothing's wrong. All she needs is another taste. Most people never taste it twice, and they wither away, sad to say."

"But she can't get out of bed."

"... and you can't take the fruit to her. That's a pretty pickle, isn't it? Sit with me, love. I can make it all better."

Anna glared at the woman. Then she glared at the fruit. Apricots. Cherries. Kiwi and lime. Tomatoes.

That last one might have been a vegetable.

Anna didn't care.

And the grapes! Glorious, quivering, ready to pop with intoxicating wine-juice. Anna's eyes followed the vines. Twisting, curling green shapes. Tendrils and coils, flowers and buds. All growing out of a pan of rich, dark loam.

Full of human fingers.

 

* * *

 

Anna screamed.

The Gypsy woman slapped her. She stumbled backwards, and fell. An orange struck her in the eye. The Gypsy kicked her in the ribs. She pelted Anna with a fistful of cherries.

"You don't want it?" the woman spat. "Take it! Take it all!"

The people were chanting. Anna couldn't make out the words. It was some dark and foreign tongue. They spoke unpronounceable names. They shouted in animal voices. They didn't even look like people, anymore. Anna tried to stand, but someone... something... grabbed her hair.

"Eat it!" the woman said, mashing a tomato against Anna's mouth. She refused to eat. The tomato exploded. Angry fingers smeared fruit on her face, trying to shove it into her mouth. Juice ran down her chin. Thick, wet, fragrant juice dripped down her neck and between her breasts. It stained her shirt. Juice in her braids. In her dimples. Behind her ears.

Finally, the angry hands let her go. Anna ran as they threw fruit at her. She stumbled, rose, limped a little... but she didn't stop. She ran and never looked back.

 

* * *

"Anna..." Elsa whispered, there in the dark.

"Come here Elsa," she called. "Never mind the bruises." She quickly pulled off her shirt, and rung it out until moist sap dripped into Elsa's mouth.

Elsa gasped at the taste.

"Anna! You didn't eat the fruit, did you?"

Anna kissed her. "Shhh... Just kiss me, lick me, suck my juices. I brought it for you, Elsa."

Cold lips hungrily tasted her mouth. Glorious flavor exploded on Elsa's tongue. She kissed her sister's neck. Bit her ears. Licked between her breasts. Sucked the juices from her skin. Hungry. Ravenous. She had never wanted her sister's body and soul more than this moment. Honey on the throat. Poison in the blood.

"Oh God," Anna gasped. "Elsa... Eat me, drink me, love me; make me yours."

Elsa sucked her sister's breasts. Cherry. Touched the warm, wet crease between her legs. Anna moaned, and threw her head back. Elsa kissed her navel. Orange. Anna ran her fingers through Elsa's hair. Elsa gripped her hands, and sucked her trembling fingers. Peach.

Lips burned. She tasted the fiery antidote. Hot flames spread through her veins, met the weak glow smouldering there, gave it new life. She gorged on her sister's flesh. Kissed and licked and sucked her skin as though she could pull her soul out through her lips.

"More," she whispered.

"More!" Anna cried. She took Elsa's exploring fingers and helped them find their mark. "Faster. Faster!" Her sister sucked her breasts and rubbed her clit. Juice ran from her cunt. "Faster! Oh God..."

Her thighs trembled and spasmed. She lost control. Bucked with her hips. Elsa didn't stop.... even when Anna dug her nails into her skin in the middle of a crying, screaming orgasm. Anna finally collapsed into the sheets. Elsa followed her. Kissed her softly. Lay her down and gently licked the juice between her sister's legs.

"Elsa..." Anna moaned, as her sister's tongue touched her throbbing cunt. "Please... Again... Eat me till I scream..."

Then she arched her back, gripped a fistful of sheets, and cried out in the night.

 

* * *

Anna lay there, in Elsa's arms.

Her head rested on Elsa's chest.

She listened to her heart.

Clung to her fragile hands.

Loved her so very much.

 

* * *

This is based on a poem written in <http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/174262>

 

Yes, the original poem is straight-up lesbian porn. It's awesome. Go read it now.


End file.
